Once a label is on something
It becomes an it
Like it's no longer alive
It's like a loss of vision
Or some dark impression
Or a black spot on your eye
If it's up to you
My little sweet baboo
Through the shouting and the fever
Think of life as queer
Think of it my dear
As some knobs or a fancy tone
From here there is no reason
Baby's got it made
But it's not what the life's about
What is imagination?
May become a fact
If we think of it that way
If you want to know
I can tell you now
Or if you make it through somehow
Or is it best to keep or fall to sleep
It isn't looking very good to me from here
It becomes an it
Like it's no longer alive
It's like a loss of vision
Or some dark impression
Or a black spot on your eye
If it's up to you
My little sweet baboo
Through the shouting and the fever
Think of life as queer
Think of it my dear
As some knobs or a fancy tone
From here there is no reason
Baby's got it made
But it's not what the life's about
What is imagination?
May become a fact
If we think of it that way
If you want to know
I can tell you now
Or if you make it through somehow
Or is it best to keep or fall to sleep
It isn't looking very good to me from here
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